Husband Invited His Ex for the Sake of the Kids, So I Ended Up Celebrating at a Hotel
“Where on earth are you putting that vase? I asked you to shove it in the cupboard it clashes atrociously with the dinner set,” said Marina, doing her best to sound calm. Inside, though, she was simmering like a stockpot left to boil, nervously tugging at her apron as she watched her husband shuffle the crystal salad bowl from one spot to the next.
“Come on, Maz, does it really matter?” Andrew gave her his classic apologetic grin, a look that positively grated on her nerves today. “Larissa always loved that vase. She used to say the prawn cocktail looked festive in it. Were having everyone round for the boys sake, so surely we should make it nice for everyone?”
Marina froze mid-cucumber slice, the knife hanging in the balance. She let out a slow breath, counting to three so she wouldnt snap and start shouting.
“Andrew,” she said in a voice so icy the cucumbers couldve chilled in it. “Let me get this straight. We’re hosting this dinner in my house. I, your actual wife, have been prepping the food for two days straight. I marinated the lamb, baked cake layers, mopped every floor in sight. And now you want me to display that tasteless vase just because your ex-wife liked it? Do you seriously think this is a remotely sensible argument?”
Andrew gave a weary sigh and sank into a chair, looking as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“Marina, please, dont start. We agreed, didnt we? The twins twentieth big day for the lads. They wanted both parents there. What was I supposed to do, tell Larissa to stay home? Shes their mother. Its just one night. Well have a few drinks, a bit of cake, then all go our separate ways. I just want it to be civil, no fireworks. Youre the wise one here, Maz.”
“Wise woman,” thought Marina bitterly. It usually translated to “convenient woman.” The type who keeps her mouth shut, makes space, and pretends everything is hunky-dory while everyone else walks mud all over her carpet.
Five years married, shed accepted Andrews baggage, his maintenance payments, his constant visits to the twins, Anton and Paul, whod been tricky teens at the time. She never blocked his time with them. Anton and Paul came for tea often enough, and Marina had struck up a friendly truce with them. But Larissa… Larissa was another chapter entirely. Loud, unapologetic, and always acting like Andrew was a loan item, given temporarily to another woman who should count herself lucky.
“I dont mind the boys, Andrew. And Ive even come to terms with you inviting Larissa along, despite normal people celebrating birthdays at Pizza Express rather than dragging their exes round to the wifes house. But why should I set the table to suit her tastes? Shall I wear a dress she fancies? Or style my hair like hers?”
“Youre exaggerating,” Andrew said, getting up. “Look, fine, Ill put the vase away. Dont sulk, please. The boys will be here in an hour, and Larissas bringing them her cars knackered. Lets not start World War Three, yeah? Its the twins day.”
He pecked her hastily on the cheek and disappeared to the bathroom to shave. Marina stood alone in the kitchen, surrounded by mixing bowls and pots. The roast lamb browned beautifully in the oven. The mushrooms in cream on the hob smelled heavenly, but she couldnt stomach any of it. The whole spread felt like a wake for her own self-respect.
An hour later, a racket sounded in the hallwayloud laughter, stomping, voices cracking with excitement.
“Where’s our daddy, then?” That voice, high-pitched and brassy, could have belonged to no one but Larissa, dazzling the hallway in a skin-tight scarlet dress and hair lacquered to the moon.
“Oh, Marina, hello,” she tossed out, barely glancing at her host before scanning for Andrew. “Weve brought gifts! Andrew, darling, come here, help Mummy with her bags all those jars of pickles!”
Andrew popped his head out, beaming and bustling.
“Alright, lads! Happy birthday!” He hugged the twins, slapped their backs. “Hey, Larissa. What are all these pickles for? Weve got more food than the Ritz!”
“Oh, I know your food, Andrew,” Larissa rolled her eyes, finally deigning to glance at Marina. “Let me guess, all healthy options, no salt, no fat? Boys need proper grub. Got pickled cucumbers, tomatoes, mushroomsoh, and I made a real meat jelly. Not that chicken gelatin nonsense you served last time.”
Marinas cheeks glowed. Last time, six months ago, Larissa had come to collect the boys. Shed picked holes in everything, straight down to the seasoning.
“Hello, Larissa,” Marina said coolly. “Come through, theres enough for everyone. And today the jelly is beef, clear as crystal.”
“Well, well see, wont we?” Larissa sniffed, striding straight into the lounge, not the least concerned about where she was going. “Oh, you still havent replaced that sofa? Andrew, I swore last year, that colours dreadful. Ages the whole room. And those curtains…ghastly. Remember our old flat, Andrew, always so bright, with those sheer voile drapes?”
Andrew followed, loaded with shopping bags.
“Larissa, we like it. Feels homely.”
“Homely? Its like a crypt in here,” pronounced Larissa, plopping herself onto the ‘wrong’ sofa. “Boys, go wash your hands! Marina, what are you waiting for? Start plating up, these men are starving!”
Marina clenched her fists. “Calm, calm,” she muttered. “Just for Andrew. Just dont ruin the boys birthday.”
She left the kitchen without a word. Andrew appeared moments later, whispering while grabbing plates.
“Dont take it personally, Maz, shes got a…er…forceful character. You know what shes like. Just wants to boss everyone. Let me help with the salads.”
“I can manage,” Marina snapped.
Dinner was off to a dire start. Larissa plonked herself next to Andrew so their elbows practically touched. The twins sat opposite, while Marina found herself parked by the door, as if she were the caterer taking a break.
“To my boys, the eagles!” Andrew toasted, raising his glass. “Twenty years gone in a flash!”
“Dont I know it,” Larissa jumped in, cutting him off. “Remember driving me to the maternity ward? I was huge, the car wouldnt start, you were panicking round the Ford Fiesta in just your shirt, mad as a hatter! Shouting under the window: ‘Which one? Which one?’ Oh, it was a hoot!”
She burst out laughing with a hand on Andrews shoulder. He smiled sheepishly, lost in recollection.
“Good times we were so young and clueless.”
“And remember Pauls first puddle incident, ruining his new suit? On the way to your mums birthday. He bawled, you picked him up, covered in mud! We cleaned him in the park fountain, do you recall?”
Larissa steered every conversation back to when they were one big happy family. “Remember our holiday in Brighton? Remember doing the wallpaper? Remember when you broke your foot and I spoon-fed you soup?”
Marina stabbed at her salad in silence. She felt superfluousa coat rack, not a hostess. The boys barely looked up from their phones; Andrew, softened by wine and nostalgia, seemed utterly unfazed by his present wife sitting next to him.
“Marina, pass the bread,” Larissa barked, launching into the tale of Andrew teaching her to drive. “He kept shouting ‘Brake!’, I hit the accelerator! Nearly went through a fence! Andrew, you lost half your hair that day!”
“My wild one,” Andrew chuckled.
“My wild one,” it echoed in Marinas head, cold as shotgun fire. She studied Andrewhe hadnt even realised what hed said. Gawping at Larissa like a lovestruck calf, he let nostalgia carry him away.
“This salad is awfully salty,” Larissa announced, shoveling in potato salad. “Marina, falling in love, are you? Everyone says that, you knowover-seasoning means a crush. But whos the lucky bloke? Oh, right, your own husband! Ha! Andrew, try my meat jelly, proper taste! Extra garlic, just for you.”
She reached past everything to plonk a chunk on Andrews plate, right on top of Marinas mushroom bake.
“Larissa, move your hand,” Marina said quietly.
“What now?” Larissa froze mid-action. “Whats with the temper?”
“I said, leave my husbands plate alone. And take your jelly. Theres plenty of food I made.”
An awkward hush fell. The twins looked up. Andrew fluttered his eyelids like a frightened sparrow.
“Maz, whats the fuss? Its tasty…”
“Oh, tasty, is it?” Marina stood up slowly. The chair scraped the floor, loud as a cymbal clash. “So, you prefer what Larissa cooks? You enjoy reminiscing about your life from two decades ago? You fancy having another woman bossing about in your house, sneering at the furniture, the food, your wife?”
“Oh, come off it,” Larissa snorted. “Bit sensitive, arent you? Im only trying to help!”
“I dont want your help,” Marina stared her down. “I dont want your company, either. I put up with you for Andrews sake. For the twins. But clearly, youre all fine without me. Youve got your little reunion, shared jokes, our Fiesta, our Brighton holiday. You’re a family; I’m just the serving staff.”
“Maz, enough,” Andrew tried to grab her hand, but she pulled away. “You got the wrong idea. We were just reminiscing…”
“Then reminisce away. I wont get in your way.”
Marina spun on her heel and left the lounge. Larissas stage-whisper followed:
“Drama queen, you see?! Told you, Andrew, not your type. Too high and mighty.”
In the bedroom, Marinas hands shook. Her mind, however, felt clear for the first time all evening. She pulled out a small travel bag, tossed in her toiletries, a spare set of clothes, pyjamas, iPadswapped the party dress for jeans and a jumper, finally herself again.
She booked a cab. Seven minutes.
She slipped into her coat, put on shoes, and was halfway out before she popped her head in the living room.
“Im leaving,” she announced firmly.
The room stilled. Andrew stood dumbly, clutching his shot glass.
“Going where? Out for bread?”
“No, Andrew. Im off to a hotel. Todays my celebration too freedom from rudeness and disrespect. You and your ‘Old Guard’ are having a smashing time. Carry on. Full fridge, cake on the terrace. Dishwashers in the kitchen; tablets under the sink. I hope Larissa gives a masterclass in washing up, as well as meat jelly.”
“Are you mad?” Andrew leapt up, spilling gin everywhere. “A hotel? Its late! Guests are here!”
“Theyre your guests, Andrew. Not mine. Enjoy your party. Happy birthday, boys.”
She shut the front door, blocking out Andrews shouts and Larissas squawking.
The taxi ride felt like flying through a liberation parade. She stared at the lights flashing past, rang the best hotel in town.
“Hi, any rooms free? Suite or junior suite? Perfect. Ill be there in twenty minutes. Could you have a bottle of champers and some fresh fruit sent up, please? And book me for a massage tomorrow morningthe earliest possible.”
The hotel was pristine and scented with expensive perfume. No waft of fried onions, no shrieks or forks clattering. The suite welcomed her with crisp linen and cool air.
Marina showered away the sticky residue of the evening. She wrapped herself in a fluffy robe, poured a cold glass of bubbly, and sat on the balcony, watching the city glisten indifferently below.
Her phone buzzed persistently during the cab ride, but she silenced it. Now she checkedfifteen missed calls from Andrew. Three texts.
“What was that about?”
“Come home, youre embarrassing me!”
“Marina, this isnt funny, Larissas in shock.”
Marina smirked and switched the phone off entirely. She sipped her champagne, feeling freer than she had in years. No stress about the roast, no worries about the telly being too loud, no fretting about Andrews mood. Just her, finally, and it was downright magical.
Next morning, sunlight woke her gently. She stretched, ordered room serviceeggs benedict, croissants, coffeethen hit the spa for a massage and a few laps in the pool. She extended her stay another night. The thought of home made her itch.
She flicked her phone on late next day. More messages, tone changed.
“Maz, where are you? Im worried.”
“The boys left right after you. Said we made fools of ourselves.”
“Larissa went home last night. We had a row.”
“Please, pick up.”
She rang Andrew.
“Maz! Oh God, youre okay? Where are you?”
“Im at a hotel, Andrew. Having a break.”
“Im so sorry,” he blurted out. “Im a total fool. I ruined it all.”
“Go on,” Marina said dryly. “How was the family reunion?”
“Awful. Catastrophic. You left, and Paul said, ‘You two are a piece of work. Mums a nightmare, Dads spineless, and Marinas perfectly decent you just bullied her out.’ They both went, didnt touch your cake.”
Marina felt a prick of satisfaction. The twins were sharper than their parents, apparently.
“And after that?”
“Larissa started shouting. Called them ungrateful pigs, said youd turned them against her. Bossed me about, told me to clear the table. I told her to help herself if she was so keen. She screeched, smashed a plate. The one from your mums set.”
“Larissa smashed one of Mums plates?” Marinas voice went glacial.
“Yeahdidnt mean it, waving her arms. Id had it, Maz. Told her to book a cab and clear off. We had a total bust-up. She called me every name the pay packet from years ago, my mum, how I ruined her life. In the end, I booted her out.”
Andrew paused, breathing hard.
“Ive just been sitting here. House is a mess, didnt clean anything. Couldnt face it. Please, Marina, come home? I get it. Im an idiot. No more exes, ever. Promise.”
“You havent cleaned?” Marina enquired.
“No. Its all left out.”
“Excellent. Youve got until tomorrow lunchtime to make the place spotless. I want every trace of Larissa wiped out. No pickled cucumbers, no jelly. Bin it all. If I arrive and smell her perfume or see a crumb, Ill just head for a solicitor instead. Got it?”
“Got it, Maz. Ill scrub the flat to within an inch of its life. Just please come home. I love you. I honestly didnt mean for it to go so wrong.”
“Things go better when you use your head, not try to please everyone, Andrew,” Marina said sternly. “Ill see you tomorrow at noon. And Andrewif you ever let someone criticise me in my own house again, I wont just escape to a hotel. Ill walk out for good.”
She hung up. The evening city lit up outside the hotel window. Marina finished her now-cold coffee. She felt a pang of sympathy for Andrewa well-meaning but wishy-washy man tangled in trying to be a ‘good dad.’ But mostly, she pitied herself for sticking it out all these years.
No more, she decided. That little hotel getaway had flicked a switch. She realised she had every right to be The Boss. Not the wise, accommodating onejust the boss in her own life.
The next day, the flat gleamed with lemon polish and disinfectant. The windows were wide open, blowing the stench of last nights drama into the street. Andrew, red-eyed and wringing his hands, met her in the hall.
“I cleaned everything,” he reported, like a nervous springer spaniel. “Even washed the curtains, thought they stank of hair spray.”
Marina inspected the kitchen. Sparkling. Not a single jar. The infamous vase? Gone.
“And the vase?” she asked.
“Binned it,” Andrew muttered. “Along with that jelly. Never want to see them again.”
She regarded him, took off her coat.
“Right,” she said. “Put the kettle on. Lets finish my cake. You didnt chuck it, did you? Or was that part of your late-night drama?”
Andrew sighed with relief, hugging her tight.
“Kept the cake. Its delicious. Had a piece last night, in fact. Youre the best, Maz. Sorry for being a plonker.”
“Forgiven. But that was the last time, Andrew. The very last.”
They sat drinking tea. Marina looked at her husband, and thought: Sometimes, the only way to save your marriage is to leave it. Just for a few days. Let an empty seat say more than a thousand speeches.
